


It's not even my Birthday

by Mirjamiarty (Mirjam)



Series: It's Our Time [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Mystrade, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post S4, Protective Lestrade, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirjam/pseuds/Mirjamiarty
Summary: Sherlock and John admitted their feelings during holidays, but how will their new relationship hold up after they return to their normal life? Sherlock is worried, and he's not the only one. Whose worries are justified? What will happen at Lestrade's birthday party?





	It's not even my Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @sherlockchallenge's June prompt at Tumblr (Birthday)
> 
> This is independent sequel to [It's Finally Christmas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10956873), but can be read separately. [Return to the Grave of Redbeard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8831605) is also in the same universe, but it's pre-S4 and more about Mycroft than Sherlock and John.

Sherlock Holmes had been ridiculously happy for the past weeks. A case had taken him and John abroad right before Christmas, and the change of routine had finally given them the courage to talk things out instead of holding on to the familiar way of life they had fallen into after John had moved back to 221B some months ago.

The memory of the trip, and especially the night after the case, made Sherlock smile involuntarily in very inconvenient places. Molly had guessed immediately, of course. She had an eye for that kind of thing, said it had been obvious for a long time who had captured his heart. Sherlock wasn't sure how he felt about being so transparent about this, but he had to admit Molly looked and saw him in a very different way than most people.

Right now, he and John were sitting in a cab on their way to do a search at a murder suspect's home. The case wasn't that interesting, but it was the first police case after Christmas. Two suspects with equally poor alibis. Both had plausible motives, both had sent death threats to the victim, and both were physically capable of stabbing an adult to death. There was some proof that both had made plans for the murder, and Lestrade wanted Sherlock there to make sure nothing would be overlooked.

John was sitting next to him, staring quietly out of the car window. He had been excited when Lestrade had called, but had grown quiet during the cab-ride. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder why, and wasn't sure if he dared to ask. He wasn't used to being this happy, and right from the start he had kept worrying when it was going to end. Wishing for something so long and giving up all hope so many times had made him feel wary.

When the holidays were over, the feeling had intensified. After all, Sherlock wasn't sure if anything would have ever happened without those holidays. Returning to their normal life at home with Rosie and all the demands of normal (mostly boring) work could easily make John see all the problems in their changed relationship status.

Maybe John was having second thoughts already. He was flexing his fingers and his jaw was tense. Never a good sign. Sherlock felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach. Had the downhill already started? So soon? Had he done something wrong?

"Everything alright?" Sherlock finally asked, preferring not to deduce too much. John usually liked that he asked instead of assuming, but now he looked like he had been caught doing something forbidden.

"Yeah, sure," John dodged, but then seemed to think better of it and continued: "I was just thinking… does Lestrade know about, you know..?"

Sherlock swallowed. Of course.

"About us, I mean," John continued anxiously (and completely unnecessarily) when Sherlock stayed quiet.

"No," he answered slowly. Of course, that was what John was thinking, he should have realized it sooner. John had always cared too much of what others thought about him. Even though he had claimed that his objections against certain assumptions were more about denial of his own feelings than any self-consciousness, there was clearly something amiss.

Not enough data.

Now John was looking guilty and even a bit embarrassed. Embarrassed about what? Being with a man? Being with Sherlock?

"Could we.. not tell him yet? I mean, it's still so new, and…"

Would be stupid to announce it to everyone if it didn't work out after all, Sherlock's unhelpful brain completed the sentence. It was a common practice when revealing pregnancy to friends and family, but what about relationships? Was John unsure about their future already, or was this normal behavior? Had John been open about his new girlfriends before, or had Sherlock just deduced their existence? Definitely not enough data. Sherlock had deleted those girls as unimportant... Well, everyone except Mary.

And then the pieces fell into their places: Mary.

"Sherlock, are you there?," John asked, sounding worried. Sherlock blinked and made an effort to stop his thoughts from wandering towards darker paths.

"Yes, sorry," he muttered, trying to concentrate on the conversation and not on what was left unsaid. "There's no hurry. Whenever you are ready," he continued, trying to sound convincing. The worried and guilty look on John's face told him that he didn't succeed very well.

"It's just something I…"

"No need to explain. I understand," Sherlock reassured quickly. He did understand. He just didn't want to force John to explain how it would be too soon after Mary, and people would bring her up again and assume stupid things. Yes, she had died almost two years ago, but talking about her in that context would still upset him. And if Sherlock was wrong about this and John wasn't talking about Mary at all, none of the other plausible reasons for keeping their relationship under wraps were something Sherlock wanted to hear about.

"You do? Thanks… I don't want to keep it secret indefinitely, just... for a little while longer, you know," John said, looking relieved and reached for Sherlock's hand. Sherlock took it, and tried to ignore his nagging worry. Maybe it wasn't anything serious after all. It wasn't like he had any grand coming out gestures planned, and it didn't really matter who knew and who didn't as long as they were together.

"Well, sooner or later Rosie will blurt it in day-care," he said, attempting to lighten the mood. Rationally Sherlock knew he was being paranoid and he hated being anything but rational.

"You are right on that!" John chuckled, and Sherlock could not help but smile with him.

"Daddy likes to use Sherlock as a pillow," he said, mimicking child's voice. John cracked up.

"She can't form that kind of sentences yet," he told between giggles. "And for the record, it was you who stole my pillow first."

For the briefest moment Sherlock thought how wonderful it would be to kiss him, before he remembered that he really was allowed to do that. He settled on squeezing his fingers though. They had almost reached their destination, and the cab driver was keeping an eye on them.

Best be careful.

***

In the end there was no need to talk about their relationship status, and the case turned out to be more interesting than Sherlock had expected. Neither of the suspects had murdered the victim, but that was only because a third one had done it first.

"Just how many people wanted him dead?" John asked after Sherlock had informed Lestrade's team that neither of the suspects had planned on stabbing. They had obviously planned a murder, yes, but just not that kind of murder.

"He tried to blackmail the wrong people," Sherlock muttered. The memory of Magnussen's face made him feel a little uneasy. At that point in his life he had been willing to throw it all away just for John to be happy, and he almost had. In the end, nobody knew about his crime except John and Mycroft's inner circle, but the memories weren't pleasant.

"Deserved it then?" John asked quietly. Magnussen's death was something they hadn't discussed at all, but of course he was thinking about that too.

"Well, he had threatened to expose the first two suspects of molesting a child, and he had fake profiles on social media posing as a child. He was most likely luring paedophiles into a trap."

"So, not another Magnussen," John said, sounding relieved.

"Well, no. But instead of reporting them, he tried to wring money out of them. Not very heroic either, I would say."

"Yeah, but if you had to choose who to blackmail, well.."

"I'd report paedophiles and blackmail Mycroft. More profit that way."

"Of course," John said with a fond knowing smile.

"What?"

"It's good to see you two acting normal again," John said casually, forcing Sherlock to roll his eyes. John had been worried about Mycroft after Sherringford. Something about him being too cooperative and friendly. Sherlock was quite sure John had even talked with him about dealing with traumatic experiences, and Sherlock would really have loved to see that. Yes, Mycroft had been shocked about the magnitude of his mistakes, but accepting help to deal with his own feelings? That would have been a sight. And John would be just stubborn enough to try that.

"You are smiling," John interrupted Sherlock's thoughts.

"Just thinking about Mycroft and Normal in the same sentence," he answered, and realized he was indeed smiling.

"Prat," John chuckled. "I could actually grow to like him if he didn't have the authority to transport me to Siberia for the mistakes I have done."

"He would not do that". Mycroft had actually blamed Sherlock's last relapse on John's actions after Mary's death, but Sherlock had made him promise not to take John away. Mycroft had agreed, but very reluctantly. "He's just jealous".

"About what?" John asked very sceptically.

"Because I have you," Sherlock answered, feeling the stupid smile breaking free again. He only hoped he wasn't blushing. John looked a bit shocked, and stepped closer, their arms touching.

"I really hope you don't mean he's…"

"Heaven forbid, no!" Sherlock burst out laughing. He refused to even think about Mycroft's love life (if there even was such a thing). "And I would skin him alive," he added more quietly. Lestrade's team was packing their gear on the other side of the room, but clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

"Nah, he's not really my type," John answered with a flirty wink and a cute smile. Now Sherlock was sure he was blushing, and with a cross eye roll, he turned and walked towards the door where Lestrade himself had disappeared only moments ago. He heard soft chuckle behind him, and bit his lip with mixed feelings of uncertainty and hope. John couldn't be that worried about keeping their relationship secret, if he was acting like that, could he?

***

Sherlock had managed to pinpoint the police to the third suspect by hacking some social media accounts and going through the crime scene pictures before they even reached the yard. They needed a warrant to search his house though (Lestrade had refused to let Sherlock and John go by themselves), so they had ended up sitting and waiting at a coffee shop near the suspect's flat.

Lestrade was eyeing him suspiciously (Honestly? Did he believe that Sherlock would run off if he turned his back?!), but John was acting downright weirdly. He was tense, overly polite and smiled too much. There had been some tension between John and Lestrade after the Culverton case, but Sherlock hadn't been in any condition to deduce what it had been about then. And when his health had improved, he had just ignored it, because they pair of them seemed to return back to normal.

Right now something was clearly up though, and when John left for the toilet, Lestrade voiced his thoughts: "Sherlock, be honest with me, are you high?" he asked with tired, bordering-on-disappointed tone.

Well. That was unexpected. And highly annoying.

"No, why would you think that?"

What had he done now?

"You are acting weird!," Lestrade exclaimed, lifting his hands. "You are absentminded, distracted, and in one moment you are looking troubled, and in second you are smiling to yourself!" Oh, right. The cursed smile again.

"What if I told you I'm just happy?" he muttered, annoyed about the disbelief on Lestrade's face. He could always call Lestrade stupid for his assumptions, but it would not change the fact that Lestrade obviously wasn't used to seeing him happy. He felt oddly sad about it.

"Something happened then?" Lestrade asked, and Sherlock realized his carelessness. What could he tell for the reason of his happiness? That John had woken up next to him this morning? He couldn't say that! John had asked him not to. How about when Rosie had almost managed to say his name during breakfast? Well, he hadn't told even John about how happy he was about that…

"Not your business," he concluded. "Not high. John would know."

"What would I know?" The man in question returned to their table.

"Was just asking how he's doing," Lestrade said and sipped his coffee. A lie. Why? It's not like his fight against addiction was kept secret from John, so why not ask about it in his presence? Sherlock lifted his eyebrow, but Lestrade ignored it.

"Anyway. My colleagues wanted to arrange some kind of gathering at the pub tonight," Lestrade continued swiftly, changing the subject. "They wish to celebrate me getting older again. Want to join us?"

"No," Sherlock stated, but at the same time John answered "sure, why not".

"Fine," Sherlock muttered. He didn't really have any interest to go, but Rosie was not at home either until tomorrow, and being alone after a case wasn't appealing. At least he could try to keep himself occupied by collecting enough data about what had caused the tension between John and Lestrade. He just really didn't fancy going to a pub, WITH John, but NOT as a couple. John had removed his ring some time before Christmas, and it seemed like every woman in the vicinity had noticed that…

John and Lestrade continued talking about the details, but Sherlock's mind wandered. Removing the ring was a clear sign that John was ready to tell the world he had gotten over Mary. That indicated that Sherlock's earlier theory wasn't that solid. Why would John want to keep their relationship secret if he was so clearly showing everyone that he was not married anymore? Unless the problem was really Sherlock's gender, or worse, Sherlock himself. Sherlock knew there had been rumours about how John had an affair with him during his marriage (patently untrue!). Maybe he wanted to dissuade those by acting like a single man for a while? But would he have moved back to 221B if that was the case?

Sherlock was shaken from his thoughts when Lestrade's phone beeped and they finally got the warrant. He could not help but see how Lestrade's worrying gaze followed him when they left from the cafe. There was clearly something he hadn't noticed, and he didn't like that.

***

The case had been over surprisingly fast after the home search. Sherlock had found the murder weapon almost immediately and after that the suspect had crumbled down and confessed the murder (and whole lot of other crimes as well). It was now up to the forensic experts to confirm his guilt based on the evidence. Boring. However, the quick arrest ensured that Lestrade could get to his birthday party in time, so that's where Sherlock was now, sitting in a corner and nurturing his brandy.

John was outside talking on the phone with Rosie. Rosie had spent the day at Sherlock's parents and was now going to sleep. They both had wished Rosie a good night, but John wanted to tell her a bedtime story over the phone. He was rather good with those. Sherlock thought about staying with him and listening to the story (John's stories were usually about their adventures), but decided to go inside when Lestrade arrived.

Lestrade was surrounded by his friends from the Yard from the moment he arrived. They had shoved him a huge blue drink with a colourful cocktail umbrella and a lemon on the side. It wasn't even close to any of the drinks Sherlock had deduced Lestrade to prefer, but clearly there was some kind of an inside joke going on. Lestrade lifted the drink to his lips and the group started to sing (if you could call that singing) some highly annoying version of Happy Birthday. Sherlock shut his eyes and tried to block the sound away. Where was John anyway? His stories weren't usually that long.

"Should you be drinking?" a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Donovan was approaching him with a dark beer in hand.

"Shouldn't you be investigating the crimes," Sherlock needled back when she joined him at his secluded table. Donovan had been insufferable after she had realized Sherlock had voluntarily joined MET's drug test program. Sherlock had done it to prove John that he was serious about staying clean, but Donovan's new concern about his addiction was highly annoying. And possibly fake. Why would she really care?

"I have solved plenty of my cases," she answered, clearly annoyed. She had been promoted during Lestrade's temporary suspension, so she had her own cases now, but refused adamantly to let Sherlock in her crime scenes.

"You would have solved those faster if -"

"You know what they talk about my promotion behind my back," she interrupted wearily and took a sip from her drink. "I can't add to it by asking for your help."

"At least Lestrade is able to put his ego to the side in order to solve crimes faster," Sherlock quipped. Donovan's company really put him on the edge.

"Lestrade is not a black woman who was promoted only because someone better than her was suspended," Donovan grimaced. "And he's not rumoured to have had an affair with the Chief Superintendent."

Sherlock lifted his eyebrow. Surely not?

"Never!" she confirmed with an eye roll. Sherlock sipped his own drink and said nothing. He didn't really know how to deal with this new almost friendly Donovan. It had been so much simpler when she had been consistently antagonistic and annoying towards him. Right after his return Donovan had started acting like she was trying to make up somehow. Sherlock wasn't sure if she really meant that, or if it was just the guilt.

"It was me who started the investigation about you, and when you strolled back to life, people seem to think I somehow manipulated the chief to advance my career and to destroy you" Donovan explained with a shrug. "But really, don't change the subject. Are you doing alright?"

"Alcohol isn't my trigger, don't coddle me," Sherlock sneered. Being reduced to just an addict never ceased to irk him. "And you missed my point, nobody would need to know I was helping. The last case with the -"

"Yeah, sure, nobody would need to know," She interrupted. "And then your good old doctor blogs about it."

"Well…"

"He's taken his ring off," Donovan changed the subject so abruptly that Sherlock was momentarily unable to keep his face in control. John had just walked in and was now congratulating Lestrade and offering him a drink. Sherlock felt a small happy flutter in his chest, but squashed it down. The missing ring reminded him of his earlier theories.

"That bad, huh?" Donovan asked, looking at Sherlock instead of John.

"What?"

"Has he finally moved on and found a new girlfriend?" Pity was obvious in her voice.

"No he hasn't!" Sherlock answered a little too forcefully to his liking.

"Well he looks like he just got laid," Donovan stated and Sherlock swallowed almost half of his drink on one single gulp just to be able to blame his blush on the alcohol. Since when was she so observant? She wasn't exactly wrong. After all, they had visited home shortly before coming to the pub.

And Sherlock hadn't had the courage to actually talk to John.

"Why on earth do you feel like you have to talk to me," he snarled and tried to scowl at her. She looked a bit startled, and then annoyingly knowing. The underlying current of pity on her face told him that she had arrived at the wrong conclusion, and because of his promise to John, Sherlock couldn't correct her. Hateful!

"Because you were here being all lonely," she stated nonchalantly. Her smile was distressing.

"That is my preferred state," he muttered, wanting out of the whole conversation.

"I don't believe you."

"If you are 'chatting me up' please cease immediately," Sherlock moaned and took another gulp of his quickly emptying drink. What had he done to deserve this?

"Heavens no!," She laughed and Sherlock wanted to punch something. "I know which way you swing."

Sherlock wanted to snap that the only way he "swinged" was towards John, but managed to keep his mouth shut. That didn't fool Donovan though.

"All I'm saying is that it was a dick move to ask you to be his best man," she declared with a meaningful look.

Before Sherlock was able to conjure up an answer, something drew his attention to the door.

"Dear lord spare me," he muttered when he recognized Mycroft's form at the door. Why the hell would he come? Of all the misery he had been expecting from the party, having Mycroft there hadn't even crossed his mind. Sherlock emptied his glass and glared at his brother who either hadn't noticed him or pretended admirably so.

"Oh, Greg's secret lover is here," Donovan giggled, making Sherlock's brain short-circuit.

"His what?!"

"Well, that man regularly appears out of nowhere to the Yard, and when he does that, Greg drops everything he's doing and they lock themselves in the office. They even turn on the blinds, do the deduction," She explained with a wide grin.

"I refuse," Sherlock stated and ordered another drink. This evening was going to get him drunk.

"Well what's wrong with that?"

Sherlock was spared from answering when Lestrade's attention shifted from John to Mycroft and John turned around and moved through the small crowd towards Sherlock and his unwanted companion.

"Did you notice who came?" John asked with contagious grin. "Never mind, of course you did."

"Could we leave now?" Sherlock grimaced as an answer. The evening was looking grimmer every second. However, his reluctance only managed to make John laugh.

"Come on, this could be interesting!"

"You two know him?" Donovan butted into their conversation.

"No," Sherlock retorted, but John was John, and gave her an honest answer. Wonderful.

"There are two of you?!" She questioned, looking annoyingly fascinated. "That's why Lestrade has tolerated you so long?! He's banging your brother?"

"What?!" John sputtered and almost chocked on his beer. Sherlock wanted to drown in his own drink.

"Yes, see what I have had to endure when you left me here alone?," he asked maybe a touch too snarkily. This evening could end all kinds of badly… "If you are going to speculate Mycroft's love life, please leave me out of it!"

John burst out laughing and patted him platonically on the shoulder. Sherlock had never wished for any kind of public gestures of affection, but he hadn't anticipated how the lack of them could feel. He scolded himself for his sentimentality. His only consolation was that Mycroft was also looking uncomfortable. A life of a goldfish, indeed.

***

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Lestrade started while standing at the end of the table. "And the Scotland Yard's finest, of course," he added like an afterthought, earning a whooping laughter from the crowd. He drew a breath and continued with a mock-serious tone: "Today we have gathered here to -"

"Get on with it!" someone called from the group, and Sherlock shared the sentiment (but with less humour).

They were all gathered around two large tables. Sherlock was sitting next to John, and Mycroft had taken the seat opposite them, leaving one unoccupied chair between himself and the raucous policemen. He looked like the embodiment of not belonging, which amused Sherlock tremendously. John had kept his left hand on Sherlock's thigh for a while now, hidden under the table, and Sherlock brushed his own fingers between John's trying to keep his smile in check by concentrating on his surroundings.

A dark-haired waitress collected empty glasses from the tables as Lestrade continued his speech. Sherlock would have ignored her completely, but when he noticed Mycroft following her with his eyes, he did a double take. Mycroft visiting any kind of social gathering was unheard of, but him checking up a young working-class girl was just impossible. Or any girl for that matter. Or anyone, period.

The girl was clearly single and in a good mood. She was wearing a well-kept uniform, so there wasn't much to deduce from her clothing. Her accent placed her firmly in Scotland, though she tried to hide it. She knew what she was doing and looked like she enjoyed her job, so probably not just a student in need of a part time job. Her nails weren't professionally done, but she was holding something…

Sherlock's thought's stuttered to a halt, when the girl walked past them with a smile and a wink, and slipped a piece of paper into John's pocket. John's immediate reaction was to move his hand away from Sherlock, and Sherlock's mood sank with it. That's what Mycroft had noticed? John flirting with the waitress?

Had he been flirting? Sherlock hadn't noticed anything like that, so the waitress could be flirting just one-sidedly. On the other hand, Sherlock had been busy trying not to look like John's partner, so could he have missed that? He was also somewhat inebriated.

John pulled the paper from his pocket and grinned. There was a phone number, signed by "A" and a winking smiley face. How unoriginal.

"It's been a while I've gotten one of these," John said, looking surprised and a fair bit too happy about it. Sherlock was confused.

"Are you... going to keep it?" he asked, hating the uncertainty in his voice. Had he really interpreted their situation so horribly wrong?

"Of course not!" John answered, still smiling. "But wouldn't it be rude to just throw it away when she's looking?"

Wouldn't it be rude not to tell her that she doesn't have a chance, Sherlock would have liked to ask. He wasn't an expert on these things, but if it were him, he'd like to know. Unless she really had a chance, and that's why John didn't discourage her?

"You are asking me that?" Sherlock finally muttered, but John didn't hear it as the crowd suddenly cheered loudly at something Lestrade had said. Probably promised them free alcohol. Sherlock excused himself and stood up. He needed to think. Jumping to conclusions without observing all the data carefully was an incredibly stupid thing to do, and he was clearly on his way to doing just that.

"Sherlock my dear!" Lestrade shouted, when Sherlock had almost reached the corridor leading to the toilets. He winced and turned around, looking at the birthday boy who was clearly drunk already. "Before you run away I'd like to thank you!" he exclaimed and raised his glass. Sherlock grimaced. Really? "Let's be honest here - and I'm always honest when I have a pint in hand - without this guy I would have spent this evening working my arse off at the yard. Your next drink is on me!"

John was smiling widely at him, clapping his hands, cheering with the others. Sherlock gave an awkward nod and made his escape. Whatever most people thought, he really didn't like being the centre of the attention like this. During the case it was different. Everyone could see that he was good at it. Getting this kind of recognition out of context made him just feel awkward.

He stopped at the men's toilet and slipped inside. A moment of peace! Now, focus on John, why would he -

A soft chime announced a text, and Sherlock grabbed his phone. The message wasn't from John though.

He was clearly just flattered, don't dramatize. MH

Sherlock rolled his eyes. How typical. Why couldn't Mycroft keep his hands off even from this? Mycroft knew about them of course, and so did their parents. John had seemed to be okay with that, but then again, keeping it secret from them, and especially from Mycroft, would have been a serious feat. That didn't mean Mycroft had any right to meddle.

And you are the expert? Do tell me more. SH

Just observing. MH

Lestrade's colleagues think you two are having an affair. They just observed. SH

Sherlock pushed his phone back to his pocket without waiting for an answer. Donovan's observations could as well be due to the nature of the work Lestrade was doing for Mycroft: Top secret and usually urgent, but decidedly not anything to do with… that. However, Sherlock had to admit that Lestrade and Mycroft had formed an unexpectedly close friendship as of late. Mycroft had actually been quite lonely when Sherlock had been away. He denied it of course, but after Sherlock's resurrection they had met surprisingly often, and Mycroft had finally hired Lestrade instead of just asking for favours every now and then.

None of that really mattered now though. John mattered. Mycroft could be right about the waitress, but that didn't explain all of it. Could this be about Lestrade's presence at Mary's final moments? That could explain some of the problems between John and the detective inspector. Especially if John was worried about people thinking that their relationship started when Mary was still in the picture. That would explain the need to take the ring off clearly before announcing a new relationship. Yes, a rational explanation.

It didn't make Sherlock feel any better though. The less rational thoughts still lingered, making him feel unpleasantly uncertain. What if this really was just a holiday romance? Would John be open about it to Sherlock's parents, if that was the case? If put like that, probably not, but his parents had assumed they were a couple long before they actually were. Not being open with them would have meant lying, and John really wasn't a liar. Maybe it was just easier to go with it? But would John introduce them to Rosie, if he was planning on a breakup?

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He needed to stop this. They were adults. They could talk about this at home after the party. He wasn't going to have a breakdown in the bathroom like a drunk teenager because of some misunderstanding. Unacceptable!

When Sherlock finally emerged from the bathroom, Molly was waiting in the corridor. When had she arrived at this mess?

"Wrong toilet," he snapped, but Molly just looked at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly unaffected by his tone.

"I was waiting for you," she said and poked his arm with her finger. "Everything okay?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Sherlock drawled. Really, this was getting old.

"Maybe because you look like that," Molly said, pointing at his face. "And you disappeared to sulk in the toilet".

"Maybe I just needed to use the loo."

"I didn't hear the flush," she answered smugly. "Now, tell me."

Sherlock closed his eyes. He had already decided to muster the courage to ask John about this after the party, so he really didn't want to continue worrying about this. The roller coaster of emotions had already wrung him absolutely dry today. Molly was his best choice though, if he wanted a second opinion.

"The waitress gave her number to John," Sherlock finally huffed resignedly.

"Okay? Well, did he accept it?" Molly asked. Her calmness and made an unflattering comparison with the storm raging in his mind.

"Well, he didn't throw it away!"

"Did you tell him it bothers you?" Molly asked patiently and leaned on the wall. Sherlock gritted his teeth. When Molly went on teacher mode, she was utterly annoying. And usually right.

"How can I when we are in the middle of the crowd and he doesn't want to tell anyone we are together?"

"What?!"

Molly was clearly taken aback, and her expression turned rapidly from patient to almost outraged. Sherlock felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach. So there really was something weird in the situation.

"You heard me," Sherlock muttered. Did he really want this to be explained to him in a toilet corridor? Not the best place to hear about the doom of his love life.

"Why?" Molly asked. She stood up and folded her arms. She was clearly getting angry on his behalf, not at him. So, probably John's fault then. That didn't sit well with Sherlock though. He did not want to blame John about this.

"It's too new, it's too soon after Mary, it's because he's always identified as heterosexual, it's me. Pick one. Or several." All plausible and rationally understandable reasons.

"You haven't asked him why?"

Why was she asking if she already knew?

"Sherlock!" Lestrade's sudden exclamation behind them startled them both. The drunken detective didn't waste time in grabbing Sherlock in a tight hug. "Why looking so sour?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Molly, who shrugged and formed "later" with her lips and waited for Sherlock's answering nod before turning around and returning to the open area.

"Not my scene exactly," he muttered as an answer to Lestrade. The guests had clearly served him enough drinks for the whole night, and it wasn't even 9 pm yet.

"Even your brother is here!" he exclaimed, letting go of Sherlock's neck.

"Just proves my point," Sherlock pointed out, but his mind was already racing. Maybe he could get some information out of Lestrade. There was clearly some backstory between the detective and John, that could explain today's events and help him prepare for the talk with John. Sherlock was aware of how desperately he was grasping to that, but he just could not bear to think of the possibility that John was already planning on leaving him.

"Come on! If he can let go a little, so can you!," Lestrade cheered, still talking about Mycroft. Sherlock rolled his eyes. The idea of Mycroft letting anything go was just preposterous. However, he had actually accepted the invitation and that said something.

"How did you even make him come?" he asked. He was actually curious about that, and also wanted to buy more time to construct some kind of a plan. However, instead of answering, Lestrade snorted and then burst out laughing, slapping his palm on his thigh.

"Sorry sorry, I may be drunk," he managed to get out between the giggles. "A bit. But you, asking how to make your brother come… Sorry, bad pun, really…"

Sherlock cringed. "That's positively juvenile!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just came to say that I meant what I said," Lestrade said finally, after getting his breath back again. "You have helped me so much. So, if you ever need any help, or just want to talk, you can…"

"Why is everyone suddenly so worried about me?!" Sherlock had to ask again.

"Because something has changed during the holidays," Lestrade answered, sobering up a bit. "You are tense with John."

Well, Lestrade was only partly wrong, but Sherlock could not explain it to him. "That's nothing!" he assured. Had Lestrade made up some theory about him being tense around John because of drugs? John wasn't stupid, he would have noticed. He was responsible for a child now, so he would be even more attentive about it than before.

"With his history? I disagree" Lestrade stated firmly.

Sherlock was baffled. "His?"

"Yeah! It was he who beat you up!"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks and looked at Lestrade sharply.

"That again?," he asked. "I was out of control, I was hallucinating. He just…"

"Attacked you." Lestrade finished his sentence with a stern glare. Sherlock stood straight and stared. Had Lestrade really been worried that John was hurting him? Well, he wasn't.

"It was a one time occurrence, he was -"

"That's what domestic abuse victims always say!"

Sherlock seethed. This was a private matter, and one they had actually discussed at length with John! John had been more upset about it than Sherlock, and he had even insisted on finishing his anger-management therapy before moving back to Baker Street just in case. Truth be told Sherlock barely even remembered the whole incident, though that was more due to the drugs than about its insignificance. Of course, Sherlock knew that what John had done was completely unacceptable, but John had taken full responsibility of his actions and really worked on preventing that from happening ever again. They had got over it.

He just didn't know how to tell Lestrade that without sounding like he was just making excuses for John.

"Listen," Lestrade continued. "I took his testimony during the Culverton case. I know he was not in a good place mentally, and I know he is a lot better now."

"He is."

"Yeah. But I told this to him then, and I'm telling you now: I'll lock him up faster than you solved today's case, if he does that again."

Silence fell between them, emphasizing the sounds from the bar. Sherlock was actually touched that Lestrade cared about him that much, but he really had no idea what to say to that. Yes, something had changed during the holidays, but how could he explain without giving the secret away? Yes, he had been suspiciously happy. Yes, he had probably been tense around John, because he had been trying to act like a friend instead of a partner. And he could not tell Lestrade either of those things.

If Lestrade really had threatened John after the Culverton case, that might be the source of the coolness between them. The whole situation had been very difficult for John without anyone adding to it.

"Trust me. I haven't touched any drugs after I got away from the hospital, and John hasn't done anything untoward to me."

"That's just it!" Lestrade sighed. "Can I trust you about this, when you are known for doing anything just to keep John safe and sound?"

That hit a little too close to home for his liking. There had been times when he had felt that his own life was useless if he had to live it alone, and that wasn't a good feeling. It was the kind of feeling that lead to sacrifices and self-destruction, and he had been fighting it for a long time.

"You shot a man for him for Chris sakes!!" Lestrade hissed after looking around to make sure nobody was listening.

"Just how close are you to Mycroft?" Sherlock shot back. Of course, Lestrade knew about that.

"That's a completely different discussion," Lestrade evaded, and Sherlock had to do a double take on his face. Was he blushing? Or just drunk? Normally he would have seized the opportunity to tear that kind of evasion to shreds, but now he was just too tired. He needed a cigarette.

"Well thank you for your concern, but everything is actually fine," he said awkwardly and turned to leave. One of Lestrade's colleagues wandered conveniently to the corridor preventing the conversation from continuing any further, and Sherlock could only hope that everything was still fine.

The reasons for his doubt just were completely different than Lestrade's.

Sherlock passed the celebrating crowd and walked outside. The sun had already set, but the streetlamps were glowing softly adding up to the light pollution of the city. He stepped on a solitary bench and sat on it's backrest leaning his elbows on his knees, and lighted a cigarette.

The cautious but honest happiness from this morning felt distant.

***

Sherlock wasn't sure how long he had sat on the bench, when the pub's door opened and the cacophony from inside got momentarily louder before getting muffled again. John stood there looking around for a moment before noticing Sherlock, and walked straight to him. Sherlock felt the bench jerk when John sat on it, but didn't have enough courage to really look at him, afraid to make any deductions. Instead, Sherlock let out a long breath, releasing the smoke from his lungs. No use to hide it from John, after all, especially if their relationship was soon ending.

John didn't say anything about the smoking though.

"I'm so much of an idiot that I didn't even realize anything was wrong when you left, until Mycroft told me" he sighed and looked at Sherlock with an apologetic expression. "Sherlock, I'm sorry."

Sherlock lit another cigarette in silence. He didn't really feel like smoking another, but he needed something in his hands to keep him grounded for this conversation. He was full of chaotic thoughts. Was this going to end here? Was John apologizing for starting their relationship?

When Sherlock continued being silent, John went on: "I was just flattered, and didn't want to look like a dick, but… Well, ended up being a dick anyway, didn't I?"

"Yes, well," Sherlock muttered, suddenly wanting this all to be over as soon as possible. Why prolong the inevitable?

John let out a troubled sigh. "Hey, look at me? Please?"

Sherlock drew a sharp breath and did what he was told.

"Who cares about the waitress?," he snapped. "If you have decided you no longer want this - us, then you should be talking about that. Concentrating on the symptom instead of the illness, what kind of a doctor are you?"

"What the fuck Sherlock?"

"Don't bother denying it, all the signs are there. The holidays are over. You had your fun, and now it's time to move on. Removed your ring to broadcast your unattached status. Decided not to tell anyone about us, why bother if it's already almost over? Accepted the number… That's how it went last time didn't it, texting behind Mary's -"

John's face had changed from confused to shocked during Sherlock's speech, but at the mention of Mary all the emotion shuttered off his face and Sherlock shut his mouth with a panicked snap. He had gone too far. He never meant to mention Mary. They never spoke about Mary, they..

Sherlock flinched involuntarily when John snapped the cigarette from his fingers without a warning, took the notorious slip of paper from his pocket and touched it with it. The paper caught fire and burned silently in John's fingers for a moment before it was dropped on asphalt. Sherlock stared at it until it had burned out completely.

When he finally dared to look at John again, he saw sadness and worry instead of the anger he had been expecting. His guts twisted unpleasantly and he regretted his outburst dearly. John's sadness never sat well with him.

"Sherlock…" John shook his head. "That's what you've been worried about this whole day?"

"All the evidence -"

"Why didn't you say anything?," John interrupted him. "You told Molly, but -"

"I didn't tell her about us. She guessed!" Sherlock hastily defended himself. Of course she had gone to confront John and made it obvious that she knew about their relationship. Sherlock should have forbidden her.

"That's not… She just told me I have messed up and should ask you how. I didn't… Why didn't you tell me it bothered you that much? Not telling Lestrade just yet?"

"You had valid reasons!"

"I didn't even tell you any of my reasons, because you told me you were okay with it!" John looked exasperated and Sherlock drew a quick breath. He had a nagging feeling that he had made a terrible miscalculation.

"It was obvious that -"

"No," John interrupted sternly. "It had nothing to do with Mary, or getting cold feet, or wanting to find someone else! Jesus."

Sherlock lifted his hands up with frustrated anger. "Why then?!"

John sighed and looked a little ashamed. "I've already told Lestrade I love you," he muttered, looking away. Sherlock stared at him, feeling wrong footed.

"And he doesn't believe me," John continued his explanation with a defeated sigh. "He confronted me before I moved back with you. Told me that I shouldn't do it, because I'd only hurt you."

Sherlock scoffed, but John held up a finger to stop him. "You would have done anything for me. Don't deny that. You already had, and instead of thanking you for it I continued punishing you," he stated, self loathing evident from his voice. "He was worried I'd exploit that and continue abusing you. And he had every right to think that."

"But you didn't move in before an outrageous amount of therapy!" Sherlock muttered in defiance, but suddenly the tension between John and Lestrade started to make sense, and the nagging feeling of miscalculation intensified.

"He doesn't know that," John sighed. "I… I didn't want to tell him about that then. Too ashamed about needing a shrink to stop hurting people around me."

Sherlock didn't know what to say.

John let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I was an idiot. He was just looking after you. He's a good man."

"So… it was… Just Lestrade?" Sherlock asked quietly. He rerun his deductions in his mind, and slowly realized how sentiment had made him believe in the worst scenario without carefully eliminating all the other possibilities.

"Yeah. I don't mind Molly, and I had already decided to tell Lestrade everything too. But this morning, in that cab, I realized I didn't want to do that in the middle of a crime scene," John told, looking absolutely sincere. "That was all! I would have asked Greg for a pint this evening if he didn't have this birthday party."

Sherlock swallowed. "So you…"

"I wanted to show him I am worthy of you. Failed, didn't I?"

"No." John hadn't failed, Sherlock had. And spectacularly. He had made hasty assumptions, and let sentiment cloud his mind, and he had decided not to ask the important questions because he had been scared of the truth. In short, he had acted like every ordinary idiot he so despised. On top of all that he had insulted John and failed to trust him. Trust was important to John. Lack of trust had destroyed his marriage, and lack of trust had almost destroyed Sherlock and John before they were even a couple. Would it destroy them now? Sherlock shouldn't have mentioned Mary, that must be -

"Sherlock." John interrupted his thoughts, looking worried. Sherlock found it harder to breathe.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "I shouldn't have said those things, I didn't mean to…"

"I deserved it," John sighed. He looked pained, but continued regardless. "I did cheat on her, so I can't blame you for…"

"I should have asked -"

"I should have made it clear I wasn't interested in her. I was just… "

"Thinking about how to start the conversation with Lestrade," Sherlock filled in with a sigh. It was obvious now. He swallowed past the thickness in his throat. "Forgive me, I…"

"No, forgive ME." John stared him adamantly.

Sherlock shook his head. "I should have asked you, but… it made so much sense for you to -"

"Sherlock, you are allowed to be upset about things I say, no matter how much sense those make to me! It's not always about me, it's about us."

Sherlock lifted his gaze and looked at John. It IS about us? A present tense.

John seemed to sense his unspoken question. "Hey now, I'm not angry. You panicked. You sitting here smoking was an obvious sign," he said with a hint of a smile. Sherlock didn't observe any signs of lying.

"Are we ok?" he asked quietly, forbidding himself to deduce the possible answers.

John smiled, tension leaving his shoulders.

"Of course we are," he assured. "And I'd never thought I'd need to say this to you, but next time, just tell me if I'm acting like an idiot."

Sherlock smiled tentatively and nodded in agreement. A group of women walked past them (obviously a stag party for women, whatever it was called), momentarily breaking the peace of the quiet street. Sherlock and John were quiet for a short moment before John let out a wry chuckle.

"Never thought that one day Mycroft would be giving me relationship tips."

Trust John to crack a joke in a difficult situation, and Sherlock loved him for it. "I'd never thought you'd listen if he did," he quipped back and then leaned down to steal the kiss he hadn't dared to take in the cab this morning. Had it been only this morning? John burst in giggles, and soon they were laughing together.

"Well there is that," John finally managed, stretching his legs under the bench. "But is there something between him and Lestrade?"

Sherlock grimaced. "I don't know and I don't want to know."

John looked at him with one raised eyebrow, looking entirely too knowing, so Sherlock had to give in. "I have a theory that they are just some kind of weird friends, but one or the other isn't happy with just that. And that's how far I'm willing to deduce."

John grinned and was about to say something when the pub's door opened and a couple of Lestrade's police friends wandered out to smoke. The peace of the quiet alley had been broken and John stood up. "Let's find Lestrade before he's too drunk for this."

Sherlock followed his example. However, when they reached the door, he remembered something. "You should know… He is already almost convinced I was high today because I smiled too much, and that you have done something because I was 'tense' around you."

John stopped and let go of the door-handle in shock. "What?!"

"Well, I tried to not look like your boyfriend, like you asked!" Sherlock stated. The humour in the situation was starting to dawn on him, and he felt almost giddy with relief after straining day.

"Jesus… I just hope he isn't drunk enough to punch me!" John moaned, rubbing his face with his palm.

"That would be counter-productive, if his main worry is that you would punch ME."

"Don't joke about that, please," John chastised him, but not too severely.

Sherlock nodded and opened the door.

They stepped back into the pub where the birthday party was going strong. Someone had brought a cake (a huge, lopsided creamy monstrosity), and Sherlock spotted Lestrade eating it with Mycroft and Donovan. She looked like she was bursting from curiosity, and Sherlock felt almost bad for Mycroft when he gestured Lestrade to come to talk. Almost.

As they waited for Lestrade to reach them, John took Sherlock's hand in his. "Sherlock," he whispered in his ear. "If I'd planned on leaving you, I wouldn't have moved back or introduced your parents to Rosie as grandparents, you know that right?"

Sherlock nodded and smiled at Lestrade's expression, when he noticed their joined hands.

Yes, he knew that. Maybe it was time to start believing in that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, I don't have a beta. I'd love to, though :)


End file.
